Perdition
by The Last Kitten
Summary: Dear God! I really tried not to start a new story, but I had such a good Idea for the new season I couldn’t stand it. This is a Dean/Castiel, Dean/Sam, Sam/Ruby fic. It will be anxty and eventually a little smutty. lol But I promise it will be written wel


This story begins at Season 4. It loosely follows the seres but does not become AU. What if Dean lost his memories when Castiel pulled him out of hell? What if he knew Jimmy before Castiel took control of his vessel?

Tittle: Perdition

Chapter: 1

Author: The Last Kitten

Genre: Supernatural

Pairings: Dean/Castiel, Dean/Sam, Sam/Ruby, Bobby/Crowley!

Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with any aspect of Supernatural. I'm just a fan. Sue me and all you'll get is bills, 'cause thats all I have to give.

Authors Note: Alright, I decided to re-re-wright this story. I hope you'll bare with me and you still find it interesting.

Again, it's rated M for "mature" audiences (The hell does that really mean?), and the story is un-betaed so let me know how I did. P.S. I borrowed a term from the all mighty Joss Whedon, but hopefully, whether or not he can sue me, it's used well. Can you guess what it was?

OOOOOOOOOOOOO

Do you want to know the worst part about hell?

No water.

No matter what color skin you start off with...it always ends up red.

And soft. No matter how soft the skin. It will always become dusty, dry, flaky.

I ran my fingers up my arm once, when I had fingers... When I had arms for that matter.

The dried blood broke off like scales...and the scales flaked in to dust.

I pealed away the next layer, and it raised like paint...translucent under the burning red sun, to show my skin to be...red.

Like a Ruby.

ooooooooooooo

'Everything happens for a reason', Bobby thought.

Sam refused to salt and burn Dean's body, and then glared daggers at Bobby when he tried to hasten the burial of Dean's softening corpse.

Sam simply repeated, through gritted teeth, that he needed to _prepare_ Dean for his return...

The lighter he always carried, even though he didn't smoke. The beaded bracelet he fingered when he was nervous, his favorite watch and belt. Even his gun.

Sam strapped the cold metal to Deans cold calf, his fingers lingering on the cool skin.

All the things a living Dean would need.

Only the necklace was removed from his tattered remains.

Sam washed the chunks of flesh from its curves, scrubbed it over and over, before laying it around his own neck.

His mind worked its self in to believing it still smelled like him. Like the living breathing Dean he knew and loved.

For four months Sam's hand reached for it whenever he was lost.

ooooooooooooo

The moment his heart started Dean's lungs constricted painfully, and he woke choking and gasping.

There was a second of confusion, a moment of panic, and then instinct.

He shifted, awkwardly, for a moment, his body not moving properly, as if shoved into an ill fitted suit.

His hand reached for his chest and aside from his shirt it was bare. Thinking for a moment he had no idea what he'd been expecting to find.

Next was his pocket.

The quiet darkness was strangely welcome, a scant memory of blearing red and incessant screams reeling in the back of his mind.

His awareness slowly expanded as he realized he was laying down. Then there was the stiffness at his back, thin air, and a stillness that ate at his nerves.

Dean flicked his lighter to illuminate the dark and frowned.

Four wooden walls...a coffin he thought grimly.

"The hell," he rasped. Who would do this to someone...what kind of monster would bury someone alive!

Fully taking control of his limbs, he slammed his fist in to the wood, shaking loose cool earth.

Again and again he used his fists, then his hands when the pine gave way.

A few minutes later Dean immediately recognized the warmth of the sun, for some reason expecting it to be much hotter.

As he stood he gawked, mouth slack, at his burial site.

Destruction.

Dozens of trees lay prone in a circle, their shiny leaves now dull and covered in dust.

"The _hell_..."

A few miles away a middle aged olive skinned man with eyes the color of an August sky drummed on his steering wheel as he sped down the highway.

As the sun rose he rubbed sleepy determined eyes.

"Oh, father of the four winds. Fill my sails, across the sea of years...," he sang.

He slowed as he pulled up beside a tall dark haired man with hazel eyes.

Hesitating before he spoke he called out, "hey, fella, where you heading?"

Dean thought for a moment, his mouth dry as a desert as he swallowed looking in to large doe eyes.

"I'm not sure, where am I?"

"Pontiac, Illinois." The man noticed him swaying slightly, "hey, are you okay?"

Dean began shaking, there was something about this man. He felt light headed and began to sag against the passenger side door until his knees hit the ground.

The blue eyed man lept from his car, "hey! Hey!"

He knelt down and turned Dean to rest his back against the car door. "Look at me...come on."

He felt the feverish brow and stood, reaching into the open window to grab a bottle of water. He knelt back down almost between Deans legs and held the water to his lips, "drink this, slowly."

Dean sipped at first, not trusting his throat muscles to keep the liquid out of his lungs, then more steadily.

When he stopped to breath his voice was shaky. "I woke up in a gra...a ditch. I don't know how I got there...and I've been walking for hours..."

Dean wasn't sure why he lied, it just seemed like a more sane option than telling a stranger that he woke up in a grave.

The driver leaned over, touching his forehead again. "You might have heat stroke...what's your name?"

"Dean...I think. I don't remember much...of anything."

"Well Dean," the man rubbed a hand through his hair, his fingers gliding over Dean's smooth scalp. "You don't seem to have any head wounds. My guess is you just needed someplace to sleep off last night." He chuckled, "My name's Jimmy, by the way. Jimmy Novac."

Dean nodded, still slightly woozy.

"I'm heading in to town. Come on, I'll give you a lift."

Jimmy helped hall Dean to his feet and buckled him in the passenger side of his car.

"Theres a lady that shows, all that glitters is gold, and she buying a stairway to heaven."

"Oh I love this song," Jimmy smiled turning the radio up a few notches.

ooooooooooooo

"_Dean...what are you doing." John Winchester's oldest son slowly stalked towards his brother._

_The center black of his pupils gave off a strange glow, a light, like a candle in the window of a darkened home._

_When he reached him Dean's hands tangled themselves in Sam's wavy chin length auburn hair._

_He touched their foreheads together and Sam could smell the cinnamon tent from the pie he'd eaten._

"_I'm sorry...I have to stop you..."_

_Their lips grazed and Sam shuddered, his hands sliding up to grab firm at Deans waist._

"_I have to kill you..."_

_Sam's hands slid under Dean's shirt, gliding along hot skin, pulling him closer. His lips were like fire when he kissed the slightly shorter man, and the glide of Dean's tongue along his lips caused his mind to side step his next words._

"_I have to kill you...Lucifer."_

On the other side of Pontiac, Sam startled awake. He stared at the sealing for a few moments, breathing hard. Next to him the short naked brunet shifted but didn't wake.

Sam touched his fingers to his lips.

They burned like he'd been kissing the inside of a jalapeño and he quietly rose to pad over to the mini fridge. The milk fought the burn but he still couldn't shake the heat of Dean's lips.

Sam shook his head and sat the carton back down on the chilly shelf. The room was warm and the air still carried a tint of sex, but when he stood naked in front of the large motel window the light of the rising sun shone in his eyes.

Unfazed by the reflection of his glowing pupils Sam blew on the glass and immediately it began to frost. He only hesitated for a moment as he lifted his finger and drew a sad face.

"You're not _still_ thinking about him are you?"

Sam didn't speak.

"Sam...," Ruby began. Dean was an eternal sore spot.

Every time his name formed on her lips she got the look. The look that froze her to the spot. The look that told her without a word how unworthy he found her.

She lowered her eyes. "I know you miss him...but your getting stronger faster than anyone would think is possible." She pulled the blanket back and stood. He couldn't stand to look at her when he thought of Dean, and the first time she'd tried to touch him when he was in one of his moods he'd sent her flying across the room.

He hadn't meant to do it. The pain caused his powers to lash out at whatever was closest, and that just happened to be her.

"I need him Ruby..." Sam balled up his fist, "I need to find a way to get him out. It's been four months. I need to get him out."

Sam had barely raised his voice but in an instant the window splintered. Dozens of cracks reached out from the indentation in front of him.

His energy could be felt in every nook of the room and Ruby grinned behind him.

Slowly she lifted the edge of the blanket, her face becoming neutral again, and dragged it over to place it on Sam's shoulders.

"We'll get him out...come back to bed."

Sam let himself be lead back to the hard mattress, staring at his hand.

"I need him," he whispered.

ooooooooooooo

"Well here we are. Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital or something," Jimmy asked concerned.

"No, no thanks. I'll be fine."

Dean hesitated. There was just something about this man. He couldn't bring himself to get out of the car when it rolled to a stop.

"Ugh, do you know where I could get something to eat around here?"

Jimmy let out a breath. "Yea, um," he chuckled. "I'm glad you asked, I'm starving." The blue of his eyes was startling and Dean could have sworn he saw a blush.

Jimmy drove on a ways, stopping in front of a small diner.

"They have great hash...oh and the pie is to die for!"

Deans eyes lit up at the mention of pie and he felt his pants pockets as they walked to the door. He opened the leather wallet stuffed in his back pocket. "Bad Motha Fucka," he mumbled reading its front before his jaw dropped open at the number of crisp bills inside. There was well over three hundred dollars and he looked up at Jimmy who was staring at him from the doorway.

"Ugh, lunch is on me," he laughed.

"Aw I couldn't let you do that," Jimmy smiled.

'That was diffidently a blush', Dean thought. "Nah, it's the least I can do, for the ride and the water."

"Twist my arm," Jimmy laughed.

The waitress looked over at the pair, her eyes widening for a moment before grabbing two menus and sauntering over.

"Table for two," she said cheerfully locking eyes with Dean.

"Yea thanks."

As they sat the woman placed the menus in front of them and then pulled out her pen and pad.

"What can I get for you gentlemen," she asked still looking at Dean, who in turn smiled over at Jimmy.

"What's good Jimmy?"

"Ah, lets see," he looked at the menus for a moment. "I'll have two eggs over easy with a side of pork hash, and my friend here," Jimmy looked up at Dean. "He'll have the eggs with...bacon," he guessed. Dean grinned, "and two slices of apple pie," Jimmy finished.

Dean was in love. "I'm in love," he said grinning at Jimmy before he could stop himself.

Jimmy looked at Dean, who looked at Jimmy, who then looked at the surprised looking waitress, who stared down at Dean.

"So how 'bout those Cowboys huh," Dean grasped at the first thing that came to mind.

"Ahem," the waitress cleared her throat and shifted to one hip, her flirting back full force. "Is there anything else I can get you," she smiled down at Dean.

"No the awkward lunch will be enough thanks," he looked at her name tag, "Madge."

She nodded and put an extra sway in her hips as she walked off.

Jimmy watched her leave, "I think she likes you."

"Yea," Dean sounded uninterested. "So what do you do Jimmy, accountant?"

The blue eyed man laughed, and Dean drank in his smile. "No I sell radio ad time. It's good business, you wouldn't believe what some people pay for time. But I think the more interesting question is why were you wondering down the side of the road during one of the hottest months on record?"

Dean's smile fell a bit.

"That is a good question," he looked Jimmy in the eyes. "But I honestly don't know."

Just then a thought occurred to him and Dean pulled his wallet back out. He pulled out two IDs and a bank card.

The first ID read Dean Winchester and the second read Aleister Gibson, matching the credit card.

Dean stared at the name and then handed the first ID over to Jimmy, sticking the second and the card back inside the wallet quickly, then placing the soft leather back in his pocket.

"I guess that's me."

"Hum, your name is Dean...Winchester? You're named after a gun?"

Neither man noticed three more heads turn to look at them.

"Yea, I guess so."

"Do you have any relatives that live in the area?"

Dean shrugged, "I don't know...but I've had this nagging feeling ever since I woke up. You know, like I'm supposed to be looking for something." His hand felt for his chest as he stared out the window, "or someone," he said looking back at Jimmy.

The salesman's blush deepened.

Madge set their plates down in front of them. "Can I get you anything else gentlemen?"

"No, thanks," Jimmy said glancing up at her as she stared down at Dean. When the hazel eyed man ignored her, keeping his eyes on Jimmy, she scoffed and walked away.

"Look I know," Jimmy cleared his throat. "I know we don't know each other very well but, if you need a place to stay I'd um, I'd just have to ask my wife if it's okay..."

Dean looked away and Jimmy hastened to repair their connection.

"She's very understanding...I mean we have a guest room and...you could stay with us until you figure things out," he babbled.

"No, I've already taken up to much of your time," Dean said laying a ten down on the table. "I should get going." He quickly ate one of the eggs and grabbed the bacon off the plate before standing and heading for the door, his long sleeve shirt tied around his waist.

"Wai...Dean..." Jimmy mirrored his movements and hurried after him with two sausages in his hand.

Outside he caught up to him quickly.

"Please let me help you find somewhere to stay for the night, or a relative, someone who can help you."

Dean crossed the street.

"You've done enough, go home. I'm a big boy I can take care of myself."

"Dean... Please!" Jimmy stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "I know what it's like to be lost and need an ear." He looked around. "I was like that once to but...let me help you even if it's just for a night. I can give you a place to stay."

"I got a place." Dean looked to his right.

"The Party Palace?" Jimmy looked at Dean wide eyed. "This place looks like it rents by the hour."

"Here's hoping," Dean chuckled. "Seriously, I'll be fine. Go home," Dean said. There was a sad tinge to his voice that he couldn't hide and Jimmy found himself taking a step closer.

"Dean...," Jimmy's hand moved on its own, wrapping itself around the upper part of Dean's left shoulder.

Time stopped.

Their eyes met and their minds went blank.

The next time they blinked it was in unison.

There were several car alarms going off and a fire hydrant was erupting like a geezer a few yards away. People were staggering to their feet and several shop windows were bare, the glass having shattered, spraying the residents with sharp projecting shards.

"Wh...what just happened," Jimmy panted, finally letting go of Dean. "What the hell just happened!" He turned around wide eyed.

"I don't know," Dean said rubbing at his eyes. He turned and, almost staggering, walked into the motel, Jimmy following close behind him.

Dean paid for the room and when they were alone he flopped down on the single queen sized bed resting his head in his hands.

He looked up at the touch of a hand on his head and jimmy squatted down in front of the wayward hunter to dab a warm rag at his nose.

Dean watched him with tired eyes; he hadn't realized his nose was dripping a steady bloody stream.

When it slowed Jimmy sat beside him on the bed.

"Dean Winchester...who are you," he whispered looking in to hazel eyes.

Dean raised a hand to stroke the man's stubbly chin as he leaned in.

"I don't know," he said softly, raking his lips against Jimmy's.

The kiss progressed quickly, taking the men's clothes along with it.

Jimmy's body was soft and Dean found himself ravishing the tanned skin with marks that would leave the married man looking for a good divorce lawyer if he arrived home in his present state.

Jimmy held on to the bed frame as Dean slid farther down his body. He couldn't think of a single coherent word of protest. The fire crawling through his veins wouldn't give his mind pause enough to second guess this turn of events.

A bottle of lotion found in the nightstand eased his way as Dean swallowed the salesman down to distract him from long probing digits.

When he was prepared, sweaty and hard, Dean crawled back up Jimmy's squirming body. He kissed him, smothering the moan that formed in the smaller mans throat as he entered him.

They writhed together, slowly, beads of sweat dripping from Dean's brow.

Suddenly he could feel a breeze on his back and he looked over to see the curtains blowing with a gentle wind.

He didn't remember opening the windows but he was thankful for the reprieve. Even through the heat of summer the windows had fogged up, and the heat in the room was becoming unbearable.

Turning his attention back to Jimmy he changed his angle slightly and the man cried out, grabbing hold of his shoulders.

"Ple...please," he begged. "I'm goin...goi...". He couldn't get the words out and he hid his face in Dean's shoulder as he came, shuttering hard.

Dean grinned and lifted Jimmy's leg, turning him and pulling him up on to his knees.

"Wha...what are you do...," Jimmy protested as Dean spread his legs and pressed down on the back of his neck.

Leaning down to whisper in his ear he growled, "I'm not done yet."

Jimmy groaned as Dean began to ride him with agonizingly slow thrusts.

It was another hour before Dean collapsed, a heap of muscle and bone on top of Jimmy.

"Jesus," Jimmy breathed as they lay panting together.

Dean chuckled and leaned up on his elbows looking down at shining blue eyes.

"Wow... I...I've never...I mean I don't think I've ever," he tried to explain. "You know...with a man before."

"Me neither...oh my God." Jimmy sat straight up, and instantly regretted it. "Ah," he rubbed at his lower back, pushing Dean away. "I...I have to go. Jesus Christ!" He made an attempt at jumping out of bed but his legs were like rubber and he stumbled, catching himself on the nightstand.

"Wait, hold on. What's wrong," Dean stood.

"What's wrong?! What's wrong?! I'm married! I'm, oh God," Jimmy looked at his watch lying with his pants on the floor. "It's almost six thirty! I was supposed to be home at ten o'clock this morning! Amelia's going to kill me...well I mean after she divorces me!"

"Woh woh, slow down. Just calm down," Dean tried to grab hold of the smaller man slowly losing his mind in front of him.

"And with a man! Oh my God!," Jimmy stood perfectly still and then looked at Dean, completely serious. "I'm going to hell..."

"What," Dean said almost laughing in shock.

"I'm going to hell! I just cheated on my wife with...with a man!" Jimmy dropped the clothes he'd gathered up. "I feel faint."

Dean grabbed hold of him and sat him down on the bed.

Holding his face between his hands Dean began to speak. "Calm down and listen to me. You are not going to hell...I'm pretty sure you're not going to hell."

Jimmy was on the verge of tears.

"Jimmy you're not going to hell." Dean wanted so badly to kiss him again and Jimmy's head lulled into his touch.

He took hold of his hand, their faces close enough for Jimmy's breath to fall cool on Dean's lips.

"Dean...I." Their eyes met. "Hell or not...I love...," Jimmy swallowed and licked dry lips. "I love my wife," he said closing his eyes as the tears began.

Hesitantly, Dean released him.

Jimmy looked up at him as Dean stood and collected his clothes. He handed the ad salesman his pants then pulled his tie around his neck, tying it slowly.

Dean's fingers lingered on the sky blue tie before dropping to his sides.

"Go," he said quietly, starring at the tie. It was the color of his eyes.

"Dean...," Jimmy began.

"_Go,_" Jimmy looked up at Dean but his mouth hadn't moved. His eyes widened, it was _that_ voice again.

"Good by Dean," Jimmy said as he hurried out of the room.

Making it home in record time, Jimmy reached for the knob to his front door just as the voice spoke again.

"_James N__ovack!_"

Jimmy turned, terrified. "Yes...yes I'm here."

"_Adulterer_!" Lightning crackled over head and Jimmy fell to his knees.

"No! I...I...," Jimmy's tears soaked in to the collar of his shirt. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I'll do anything...anything," he yelled. "Forgive me, I was weak!"

The voice was silent.

"Please! Please...I'll do anything...please God forgive me!" Jimmy clasped his hands together, squeezing, his prayer a mantra. "Our Father, who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name. Thy Kingdom come, thy will be don..."

"_Service, James Novack. A life of service, and your sins will be forgiven._"

"Yes, yes anything."

Jimmy looked up at the sky, a blinding light striking him hard.

It filled his eyes and the wind was warm as it ruffled his hair and coat.

A few moments later crystal blue eyes peered around until they fell on a young child standing on the porch of Jimmy Novack's house.

"Daddy?"

Jimmy's body turned.

"I am not your father."


End file.
